


The Boys of Summer

by uro_boros



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uro_boros/pseuds/uro_boros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Lance kisses him, his mouth tastes of the bubblegum syrup flavoring his snow cone.</p><p>It’s summer, and the sun is hot, so they’ve retreated to the boardwalk and the beach, where the air is at least cooled by the ocean. Lance is shirtless and skinny-chested, faintly-reddened by the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boys of Summer

The first time Lance kisses him, his mouth tastes of the bubblegum syrup flavoring his snow cone.

It’s summer, and the sun is hot, so they’ve retreated to the boardwalk and the beach, where the air is at least cooled by the ocean. Lance is shirtless and skinny-chested, faintly-reddened by the sun. Hunk’s in a tank-top and boardshorts.

They’re sitting with their legs dangling off the pier when Lance’s head turns as Hunk is talking about the boat engine he’s been elbows deep in all summer, and then Lance’s mouth is on his, cutting off the story.

“Woah,” says Lance, smacking his lips when they both pull away. “Not bad.”

–

So that, of course, leads to a summer of this. Lance isn’t a particularly good kisser. He calls what they do practice.

Hunk would have been over a lot anyway, even if they weren’t doing this. He’s known Lance since kindergarten – somehow, this feels like the logical next step in their friendship. They’ve shared broken bones and bloody noses and secrets; what is kissing, after all of that.

Besides, it’s nice.

Lance talks too much. Kissing means him being quiet, for seconds, minutes, hours.

And it’s nice to touch Lance. Sometimes. Mostly.

Hunk knows Lance hit his growth spurt somewhere around fourteen and just didn’t stop. He knows how much food Lance’s abuelita piles on his plate, and how none of it sticks. Lance has skinny hips and skinny arms and a skinny chest with dark nipples that Hunk spends more and more of his time looking at.

It’s summer, so they make out shirtless in Lance’s room with the fan twirling lazily overhead, the windows thrown open with the hope of catching a breeze. 

It’s summer, and summer means being stupid, means being nineteen and feeling it. They have water balloon fights in the park with Lance’s little siblings; they watch fireworks together in a hush on the 4th of July. He works marks into Lance’s neck that disappear under his tan, but that Hunk can feel down in his bones.

–

“Hey,” says Lance, straddling Hunk’s hips. His legs are long, which is a newfound appreciation in Hunk, but his thighs tremble around Hunk’s with the strain of his position. “We should do more,” he says with pointed emphasis on more, and his lips curl which is a better look on him when he’s like this, tousled and kissed, than when he’s just being obnoxious.

Hunk’s given a lot of thought to more.

It’s mostly involved his hand and perfunctory, clinical searches on incognito web browsers.

He swallows, and before he can stop it, because he’s spent all summer being acquainted with Lance’s body and his leanness, croaks, “But what if I break you?”

Lance’s smile widens, his expression sharpening, something awful and brilliant in his eyes. “Hunk, buddy, please do.”

–

Kissing Lance keeps him quiet, which Hunk used at first to justify it.

Having sex with Lance does the opposite.

“Wow,” says Lance, when Hunk is one finger in and admiring the small of Lance’s back. “That feels weird.”

“Bad weird?” he frets, trying to search for another pillow or something. The internet advised pillows and cuddling after and said that first times were hard. All of the pillows are already beneath Lance’s hips.

“Um,” Lance’s body gives a weird little spasm and a shimmy under Hunk’s eyes. “Just weird-weird?” He decides after a moment. “I dunno. Kissing is nicer. Keep going, maybe.”

He adds more lube. Lance makes a noise in the back of his throat when Hunk slides in another finger. “Weird,” he repeats himself. 

The third finger, Lance is clearly wincing. His skinny hips shiver every so often and the noises he makes are more pained than pleased, even when Hunk sets about distracting him by kissing his ears. 

“I can stop,” Hunk says, because he can and sort of wants to. This isn’t fun anymore – the room is hot and muggy, the air sort of stale with recycled breathing. Lance is his best friend, and Hunk is hurting him.

Kissing is better; face to face, where Hunk can watch Lance light up and enjoy it.

“No,” mumbles Lance. The back of his neck is flushed all the way up into his hairline. Hunk strokes it, absent-minded, and notices how the span of his hand is larger than the width of Lance’s neck.

He’s always been big, but Lance makes him feel bigger somehow; magnified. 

He feels too big now.

“Lance,” he starts to say but is interrupted by Lance making a small, hiccupy noise and shaking his head. “Can we at least turn around? This makes me feel…” he trails.

Lance agrees to that, at least, though the turn of his body is reluctant, and he immediately hides his face behind his hands.

Hunk only has one good hand, so it feels sort of unfair, until his one good hand easily catches both of Lance’s wrists in it and tugs his arms down.

Lance’s eyelashes are clumped and wet, his bottom lip raw from worrying at it with his teeth. His expression crumbles under Hunk’s gaze. “Sorry,’ he hiccups again, his little chest heaving. “It hurts. I don’t want you to stop.”

“Dude,” says Hunk, and it’s stupid, Lance is honestly stupid, and he leans down and kisses at Lance’s wet cheeks, at the underside of his jaw, until he gets to Lance’s mouth. There, he’s soft and gentle, even when Lance tries to open his mouth and change the pace. “We have like, forever to get this to work, you know?” he says when he pulls away. “This is stupid if you’re not liking it.”

Lance looks ashamed. “We do?” he says in a small voice. “I thought this was just a summer thing, that like, maybe you didn’t want to keep doing it. You know, a fling. Or something.”

It’s stupid, so he kisses Lance again and again until he gets him to smile. That’s what Lance’s mouth was made for, he thinks; kissing and smiling.

–

In the morning, they hold hands at breakfast, and Lance’s abuelita pinches Hunk’s cheeks and appreciates his appetite.

Being Lance’s boyfriend has some perks – it lasts longer than a summer.


End file.
